Invisible Iceflowers
by Setz
Summary: Kagami Taiga sets out in the woods, bringing back a boy as cold as ice to his home. A winter prince rejected by his home, now patiently waiting for spring to return to the place where he used to belong. Even chilly hearts can love. - What would you do, if you were destined to wither like the flowers that granted you a second chance?


**A/N: I had the Kagamine twin's 'Feathers Across the Seasons' on repeat while writing this.  
>I'm terribly sorry for being so lazy, not posting anything new. School is keeping me busy.<br>So far it looks like this will be a 6 chapter story, and I apologize for any grammatical errors and such,  
>I don't have any proofreaders and English is not my mother's tongue.<br>I decided to snuggle up in my comfort zone and write something I know I'd actually enjoy writing, because  
>lately I've been dealing with a lack of confidence in my abilities (it happens to all of us, no?).<br>That means this is an AU story. I rated it 'M' because I'm not sure whether I'll throw in some adult themes.  
><strong>**Now, enough of my rambling. I hope you'll like it, even thought this chapter lacks talking, well it's only the  
><strong>_**"beginning"**_

* * *

><p><em>And so he came.<br>__Weak like the flowers of spring,  
><em>_yet as determined as a  
><em>_speck of green  
><em>_between new tiles of stone.  
><em>- Kagami Taiga

_If I had always been  
><em>_as lost as I was then,  
><em>_perhaps I would have,  
><em>_perhaps I would have,  
><em>_died right there and then.  
><em>- Kuroko Tetsuya

* * *

><p>The winter was cold.<br>'_Of course, stupid'_, you think.  
>But he was talking about the kind of chilling cold that crept underneath his clothes like claws in nonexistence and as they were dragged down his body he could feel his skin peel off and leave his beating heart bare to fall victim to whoever caught it first. Maybe that was why everything turned out as it did.<p>

The redhead raised his glove-covered hands, bringing them to his face so that he could create a barrier for the warmth of his breath to clash against and flow back to his red-tinted cheeks that the unmerciful wind had colored. The youth had pulled his hat down to his eyebrows, messy bangs peeking out, and as he walked he could feel the eyes of the forest watch him with their knowledge that lay beyond time and back.  
>It was merely a tradition, passed down from his grandfather to his father, from his father to him and…<br>He cut himself off, rubbing the palms of his hands together with a growl as he moved through the last part of the woods before it opened up, revealing a rather large pond and trees that seemed misplaced in the winter environment.

The surface of the pond had been kissed by winter's lips, leaving it frozen stiff - the trees that surrounded the water were thick, flowers similar to apple blossoms (however, thrice their size) decorating the branches as if summer still clung to them. He'd never seen them fall, the flowers that is - no matter what season that lay itself across the earth, the flowers held on for their life. As if they could hear his thoughts, the branches rustled as a breeze swept across the snow-dressed ground.

He dug his hand into his pockets after removing his glove, searching for the offering that he had picked out earlier when visiting the village a bit from his home; a little jar that they said attracted fairies, filled with a mixture of small flowers in lilac and alabaster. Clinky noises could be heard as small beads (they looked like tears in the shade of milk) rolled over the glass because of his movements, the calming smell of lavender and other blossoms escaped from the jar for a brief moment. Usually only little kids bought them hoping that they would be able to capture fairies, but he just couldn't resist the urge. Since the little opening in the woods gave him a glimpse of spring during harsh winters, he thought he would do the same.

He bent down, placing the jar on the edge of the pond where ice mixed with snow.  
>This place, caught in between spring and winter, seemed to hold its breath; waiting for something<br>'_Did you know, Taiga? If you sing to the world, it'll listen, it'll answer. So never hesitate if you cannot seem to find the proper way to explain what it is you wish for. All you need is the silence and your voice. Don't lock up your heart, or you'll sooner or later forget it's there.'  
><em>The lingering wind, harsh and cold, tugged at his heart's desires.  
>And so he sang.<br>Quietly, with words he could find in what lay around him - another language fit to speak for his soul. Something that he could not normally translate; from emotions all over the color spectrum to how he felt during lonely evenings.  
>He didn't usually sing, not the way he had done as young - when his father had, with a bright grin, taught him old tales in the shape of songs.<p>

_"The transparent iceflower sat alone,  
><em>_upon a bed of frozen tears  
><em>_that the sky had shed a day ago;  
><em>_now nothing but a solid sheet for the lake._

_An invisible iceflower listened well,  
><em>_awaiting the song that the  
><em>_winter would surely bring for him;  
><em>_entwining words into a promise of time._

_A little flower of ice waited still,  
><em>_when the sound of someone  
><em>_very close came passing by;  
><em>_that someone who had by now stopped._

_Blossoming as if it was spring,  
><em>_the boy rose from clear  
><em>_waters that had once been ice;  
><em>_as fragile as hope and pure as light._

_A boy of blooming flowers cold,  
><em>_brought to life by a single soul  
><em>_that sang a song thought to be lost;  
><em>_waiting for spring's embrace to arrive…"_

Whether it was the song that he picked up out of thin air, the fairy-catcher or something beyond his understanding that woke up the world around him he doubted he'd ever figure out. But that didn't matter, because before his eyes the air began twist and stretch the imagery that was nature - the flowers that resembled spring fell from the branches and scattered across the smooth ice as it began to crack.  
>The sight of it reminded him of that one time he'd dropped a mirror as a kid; it only took an instant for his reflection to break into a thousand pieces, as if it was showing him that everything was meant to be broken. Even his soul, even his sense of self.<br>One moment the boy wasn't there, the other the petals of defeated flowers began to collide with the shape of a body - graze a pair of shoulders, brush against a still-hidden face and slender frame.

With the faint shimmer of the crust of snow that his feet crushed held, someone fell down on his knees - his breaths seemed to echo across the silent forest, making it beat to the sound of his lonely heart.  
>Blue locks fell around a youthful face, now visible to its surroundings, closed eyes and lashes that brushed against pale skin. He wore no clothes, nevertheless his body was covered by flowers in shades of white, blue and green; slithering up his limbs like the clothing of a royalty from a tribe of forest-beings. Ice spread out across his frame, arms and legs all the way up to his jawline in the pattern of thin lace; reflecting the sunlight as his body fell down to meet the hard ice that was his stage.<p>

He looked so at home, so peaceful; features of a winter prince sleeping quietly in his kingdom.  
>Then why did it feel so odd, as if the sight of him was a mere illusion, an error in the picture?<br>Why did the pond's visitor seem to spot lines of worry and unrest across the other's face, pale scars of time decorating both his skin and his heart?  
>He took a step forward, crossing the line between the safety of the forest and its stable ground and handing himself over to the uncertainty of frozen water. Was it just his imagination, or did bubbles of light, looking bright blue, clash against the ice to meet the soles of his feet as he continued to carefully make his way across the thick sheet of ice - something desperate to get out, watching from the shadows in the water.<p>

He wasn't surprised to notice that the stranger's skin was as cold as the rest of the world there; still, nothing compared to the chilly hearts of those who had turned away from all that they love.  
>"Oi…"<br>He hesitated, then lifted the younger one's (judging by looks) upper body up, patting his cheek as if that would somehow help him wake up. Frost-tinted lips moved, but no sound made its way past them.  
>The scene made the redhead think of picking up a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, how fragile and weak it was without the walls of its home to protect it. He took off his coat, placing it on the boy's shoulders in hope that it would ward off the dry coldness that restlessly filled the air.<p>

One more try.  
>"The… rest of the… song…"<br>Words cut off with sharp edges that seemed to hurt the strange one's throat.  
>The redhead began to hurry back.<br>"Don't speak," he added a silent (idiot) in the back of his head.  
>Eyes fluttered open, revealing blue depths of an ocean - nothing like the transparent ice that stretched across the pond they had just left. With barely-open hues, the boy reached up - wrapping his fingers around the collar of the redhead's jacket that covered his chest and thighs.<br>"The song…"  
>He insisted, but the other understood none of it; they didn't have time for it anyways, he had to make sure to get the chilled-to-the-core stranger back before he froze to death. That was what most people would do, right? He couldn't imagine it being some kind of trick to rob him off all that he had. And if it was… Then the guy in his arms was a damned good actor.<p>

Questions that would have sufficed for a hundred-years conversation began to form in his head, all trying to attract his attention.  
>"<em>Don't speak<em>," he repeated, a growl making itself heard shortly after before he added. "Hold on just a bit longer."  
>He couldn't tell whether it was a smile of sadness or one of joy that danced across the other's pale lips upon hearing his words.<br>"_... Finally."  
><em>  
>The shadows suddenly seemed so much larger, ready to devour and rip them apart at any moment.<br>His voice was nothing but a whisper, but in the forest it seemed so much louder.  
>Like the prayer of someone during his final hours.<p>

* * *

><p>The warmth roared through his body like the fire of a dragon that had lived for millenniums, raging with the instinct to set everything on fire and watch it burn - the beauty of destruction as it burst through his cold veins, reaching his heart.<br>Awaken with fire, steal with ice, wither at spring.

He woke up to humming and the uneven sound of sparks that fled from the body of flames that rested in the fireplace. Blurry figures as his eyes opened for a couple second, soft fabric the covered him, the waves of comforting heat reaching further down to his self - wrapping him in the smell of freshly baked bread (how could he know? all he had smelled for the past lifetimes was the green of the forest, but still he recognized it). As time wandered on, he allowed himself the luxury of rest; keeping his eyes closed, shutting himself off from the rest of the world with its cruelty and greed.

Why was it that he couldn't let go?  
><em>That's right…<br>_A faraway meeting, when he was still so transparent, not yet ready to carry the burden of the heartbeats that belonged to the forest that he had given himself to. Someone who had been granted a second chance, not dead but still not quite alive - a mere fragment of what a human was, shattered and sewn together with a thread of magic and hope, just _one more day_.

His gaze fell on the ceiling above, reddish brown wood and the light from a sun that struggled to stay up during the winter cycle; soon to hand itself over to the night once more and greet the twilight.  
>He raised his hands, the tips of his fingers finding his cheeks - warm.<br>Like if the atmosphere in the place where he currently was had traveled with the air inside his body, blessing him with its promise of a somewhat familiar heat.

"You're awake?" The question was more of a way to confirm it to himself, was what the snow prince thought when a stranger's voice traveled through the air. Someone showed up at the side of the bed, slightly tanned skin and messy red-and-black hair framing his face; funny-looking, split eyebrows. Tall too, way taller than the male himself was.

The bluenette's eyes wandered from the male he couldn't recognize to his own hands, trembling, then back.

Silence greeted his lips at first, before he managed to find the words.  
>"It's warm."<br>After years locked away in a cage meant to protect and not to imprison, he had only felt the touch of cool ice and snow - felt it nibble on his skin, slither down his throat until it reached his heart.

The redhead looked confused for a moment, then shook his head and reached out - touching something damp on his forehead. A warm towel to cure his chilled self. "'Course it is! It's freezing outside. I have no idea how you managed to stay alive out there. Well, you'll be fine in no time… Probably."  
>The winter boy blinked, suddenly recalling what he had said before he drifted back to his dream-less sleep.<br>"The song," he pushed himself up on the bed, ignoring the other's protests ("_I think you'd better lie down… Oi-"_). "You knew the song…"

With his left hand, he kept the damp towel in place. The covers that had been placed over him to keep the warmth close fell down to his hips, revealing a frame with numerous pale scars running along his rib cage and back - traces of something he had since long suppressed all memories of. Still, at times, they slipped past his barriers to bring back the world of hurt and confusion. However, they were far away from his current thoughts, resting in the abyss of memories that got further and further away from him as time passed. The tips of his fingers brushed against his body, the lack of flowers suddenly striking his mind - had they been removed by the other? He felt so… _not trapped_.

"I wouldn't say I know it. It was more like… It just came to me, kind of like the forest taught me it. Ahh, no that doesn't make sense at all. Sorry, it sounded like a good explanation when I said it in my head," the taller one of the two said. The bluenette leaned forward, suddenly feeling the pain shoot through his chest - invisible thorns of roses that attacked his heart - he gasped for air. His hand moved to his face, up past his cheek to his forehead, running through the blue bangs that stuck to his skin as if his sweat was glue.  
>The taller of the two bent down, quick to follow up with a question. "Hey, are you okay? I told you, you should get some more rest…"<p>

Blue orbs locked with red ones, the voice that seemed ready to break at any point having regained some of it's strength - reflected in the hint of light that could be found in his eyes. "... What is your name?"  
><em>Who are you? Why did you bring me here? Why am I in this form? Why do I feel warm? What do you mean, the forest taught you?<br>_The reply came soon after the questions in his head came to an end, still more of them waited to make themselves known to him.  
>"Kagami Taiga." The redhead introduced himself, still watching the fragile one as if scared that he might just shatter right before his eyes at any moment, without any warning. "Thought I should be the one asking you. I mean, you just appeared all of a sudden - freaked me out - and looked as if you had died while sleeping. You were so cold, so I didn't believe you were actually still alive until I felt your pulse. Now, who are <em>you<em>?"

The bluenette appeared to be unsure, the details were so difficult to explain; still they made perfect sense to the boy himself, just like how he knew the sound of falling snow and winter's whisper as well as his own voice.  
>"Kuroko…"<br>His eyes fell on the blankets, patterned in earthly colors.  
>"Kuroko Tetsuya."<br>A name he hadn't uttered in such a long time that even though it was his own, it felt foreign on his tongue.  
>Bound to the winter, chained by a hopeless wish that had been granted although nowadays he wasn't sure if that choice was the best for him (childish views on life could be blinding, he knew now). The warmth nuzzled his mind.<br>For a few seconds, the questions ceased to exist and all that was left in his head were the three last verses of the song.

_His_ song.  
>Afraid to confirm that at last he would truly lose his petals, he curled up and pressed his lips tightly together; a mask of expressionlessness painted on.<br>"Thank you."  
><em>At least I won't be alone.<br>__Once more, you've found me at my weakest.  
><em>_Isn't it… slightly amusing?  
><em>Outside the winter's reign was still safe.  
>But there is no escaping spring.<p> 


End file.
